The Duke And His Four Wards

Chapter 8.1 (Part 2)

   Emma was right in her assessment that Felix disapproved of their association but wrong in her idea of the cause. Only too well-acquainted with his brother's character, their guardian entertained a grave concern that the frustrates involved in behaving with decorum in the face of Emma Fleming's bounteous temptations would prove overwhelming long before Franck's was brought to admit he was in love with the chit. His worst fears had seemed well in the way to being realized when he had, entirely unintentionally, surprised them in their way back to the ballroom. His sharp blue eyes had not missed the glow in Emma's face. Consequently, the look he had directed at his brother, which Emma had intercepted, had not been particularly encouraging. She had missed Francis's carefree response.

   Margaret, reasonably certain of Felix's thoughts on the matter, realized these might not be entirely clear to Emma. But how to explain Felix's doubts of his own brother to the still innocent Emma? Despite the fact that only a year separated her from Maribella, the disparity in their understandings, particularly with respect to the male species, was enormous. All three elder Flemings had inherited both looks and dispositions from their father's family, which in part explained his aversion to women. Lucas Fleming has witnessed firsthand the dance his sisters had led all the men of their acquaintance before finally settling in happily wedded bliss. The strain on his father and himself had been considerable. Consequently, the discovery that his daughters were entirely from the same mound had prompted him to immure them in rural seclusion. Emma, however, had knot inherited the Fleming looks, her gentle and often quite stubborn innocence deriving from the placid Emily. Viewing the troubled face of her youngest half-sister, Margaret decided the tune had come to at least try to suggest to Emma's mind that there was often more to life that the strictly obvious. Aside from anything else, this time, she had both Sophia and Maribella beside her to help explain.

   "I rather think, my love," commenced Margaret, "that it's not that Felix would disapprove of the connection. His concern is more for your good name."

   Emma's puzzled frown face no indication of lightening. "But why should my being with his brother endanger my good name?"

   Sophia gave an unladylike snort of laughter. "Oh, Emma, love! You're going to have to grow up, my dear. Our guardian's concerned because he knows what his brother's like and that, generally speaking, young ladies are not safe with him."

   The effect of this forthright speech on Emma was galvanizing. Her eyes blazed in defense of her absent love. "Francis's not like that at all!"

   "Oh, sweetheart, you're going to have to open your eyes!" Maribella bought into the discussion, sitting up he better to do so. "He's not only 'like that,' Francis Cambridge has made a career specializing in being 'like that.' He's a rake. The same as Henry and Daniel Hammington, too. And, of course, the greatest rake of them all is our dear guardian, who had his eye firmly set on Maggie here. Rakes and Flemings go together, I'm afraid. We attract them and they—" she put her head in one side, considering her words "—well, they attract us. It's no earthly good disputing the evidence."

   Seeing the perturbation in Emma's face, Margaret sought to reassure her. "That doesn't mean that the end result is not just the same as if they were more conservative. It's just that, we'll, it very likely takes longer for such men to accept the...the desirability of marriage." Her eyes flicked to Sophia who, head bent and eyes intent on her fingers, was plaiting more daisies. "Time will, I suspect, eventually bring them around. The danger is in the waiting."

   Emma was following her sister's discourse with difficulty. "But Francis's never...well, you know, tried to make love to me."

   "Do you mean to say he's never kissed you?" asked Maribella in clear disbelief.

   Emma blushed. "Yes. But I kissed him first."

   "Emma!" The startled exclamation was drawn from all three sisters who promptly thereafter fell about laughing. Maribella was the last to recover. "Oh, my dear, you're more a Fleming than we'd thought!"

   "Well, it was nice, I thought," said Emma, fast losing her reticence in the face of her sisters' teasing. "Anyway, what am I suppose to do? Avoid him? That wouldn't be much fun. And I don't think I could stop him kissing me, somehow. I rather like being kissed."

   "It's not the kissing itself that's the problem," stated Sophia. "It's what comes next. And that's even more difficult to stop."

   "Very true," confirmed Maribella, studying her slippered toes. "But if you want lessons in how to hold a rake in arm's length you shouldn't look to me. Nor to Sophia either. It's only Maggie who's managed to hold her own so far." Maribella's eyes started to dance as hey rested on her eldest sister's calm face. "But, I suspect, that's only because our dear guardian is playing a deep game."

   Margaret blushed slightly, then reluctantly smiled. "Unfortunately, I'm forced to agree with you."